Opening Invocation – “At the Crossroads”
You stand at the edge of knowing. A fork in the path. One way leads to what you’ve always known. The other… into the dark. There is no sign. No map. No voice telling you what to do. Only the stillness. The hush of the night. And the flicker of a flame in the distance. A woman waits there. Cloaked in shadow, crowned in moonlight. In one hand, a key. In the other, a torch. She does not beckon. She does not speak. She simply watches… Until you’re ready. Because this is the place of choice. The threshold of becoming. The meeting point of endings and beginnings. The realm of the in-between. This is Hecate’s domain. And she has been waiting for you.
Welcome, my loves…
You’ve just stepped into the world of Hecate,
goddess of the crossroads, the void, the flame in the darkness.
She is the guide of thresholds, the keeper of keys,
and the one who waits beside you when you’re not sure who you are becoming.
This is Playing Her Part,
a special series within The Wisdom Path podcast,
and I’m your host, Rosie Peacock, photographer, storyteller, sacred space holder,
and a lover of myth, magic, and the power of archetypes to transform us.
In this series, we explore the sacred feminine through story, embodiment, and creative reflection.
Each episode is a journey, part mythic retelling, part poetic invocation, part practical integration, all held in reverence for the women who live inside us, and the ancient energies they carry.
If you’re new here, welcome. If you’ve journeyed with me before, perhaps through Persephone’s descent or Lilith’s rebellion, then you already know we go deep.
Today, we walk with Hecate.
Not to find the answers…
but to honour the questions.
To sit in the in-between.
To remember what it means to carry the torch.
Into the Void: The Place Where She Waits
Before we rise, before we bloom, before we even begin again we enter the void. It is the place between identities, between roles, between versions of ourselves that no longer fit, and the ones we are not yet ready to wear. The void is not a mistake. It is not a sign that something has gone wrong. It is the holy space where all things melt. Where ego dissolves. Where narratives lose their shape. Where the scaffolding of who we thought we were begins to drip away, like wax from a flame that’s already been lit. It is the place of the primordial feminine not the feminine as softness or sweetness, but as dark matter. The unformed. The infinite. The pulse beneath creation. The womb before birth. The dark sea from which all light once emerged. In the void, we are asked to surrender control. To stop trying to shape the story. To stop clinging to the certainty of a path. To lay our identity on the altar and ask: What is still true when all else falls away? It is not comfortable. It is not meant to be. But it is sacred. This is where Hecate waits. Not to pull us out, but to sit beside us in the dissolving. To hand us the key when we are finally willing to stop forcing the lock. To remind us: you are not dying. You are remembering what lives beneath. The void is not emptiness. It is fullness in disguise. It is potential. It is the dark before the dawn, the inhale before the howl, the silence before the truth. So if you are in the void, if the pieces of who you once were are falling like ash at your feet — do not rush. Breathe. Melt. Fall inward. The self that returns will be wiser. Wilder. More yours than ever before. And when you rise, you will not be who you were. You will be who you chose to become.
Introducing Hecate
Before the gods sat on thrones of marble, before Olympus had a name, there was a goddess made of shadow and stars. Hecate. She is not easily defined. Not a wife, nor a daughter, nor a victim in someone else’s myth. She does not fit into the neat columns of Greek mythology she spills between them, dark and glimmering, like oil on water. She is a goddess of thresholds the moments before a choice, the steps between here and there, the breath before the scream. Guardian of the crossroads, where three paths meet and no map is clear. Mistress of magic and memory, of ghosts and flames, of death and birth and everything in between. She walks where others fear to go through the veils, into the underworld, along the edge of becoming. In the myth of Persephone, she is the one who hears the cry. Not the mother. Not the king. The witch. The witness. The one who walks between worlds. She doesn’t come to undo the descent she comes to guide you through it. But this is only one story. Hecate is far older than the fields of spring. She hails from the deep lands of Anatolia, carried into Greek thought like smoke on the wind. In the earliest hymns, she is not a feared sorceress but a beloved goddess, honoured by Zeus, granted dominion over sky, sea, and shadow. She is a triple-bodied queen one face gazing into the past, one into the present, one into the dark unknown of what is yet to come. Her symbols are spells in themselves: The torch – lighting your own way through the night. The key – unlocking doors only you can open. The hound – guide, guardian, instinct unchained. The serpent – shedding skins, sacred transformation. She is invoked by witches, midwives, seekers, and those who no longer wish to play small. She is called upon at moments of transition when you are ending, beginning, bleeding, breaking, when you are finally ready to meet your shadow with reverence, and choose your path with power. She is not here to save you. She is here to walk beside you, torch in hand, as you do the brave, burning work of becoming who you truly are.
Mythic Retelling: The Witchmother’s Fire
(A tale of Hecate and the First Witch)
They say the first witch was not born… but called. It was not lightning that struck her into power, nor a man’s betrayal, nor a potion gone wrong. It was the night she followed the hound into the woods. She had no name then, only silence and rage. A girl, perhaps. Or a woman half-formed. Running from the life that was too small, the cage dressed as a marriage, the prayers that went unanswered. And in that wild place beneath trees older than kings, where the stars blinked like forgotten gods Hecate found her. Not with a crown. Not with glory. But with fire in one hand and bones in the other. She said nothing at first. Only watched, as the girl knelt before the earth, grief pouring from her body like black rain. Then, finally “Do you want to remember?” The girl looked up. “Remember what?” Hecate smiled, slow as moonrise. “What you are.” That night, the first witch was unmade and reborn. She drank from the cauldron of serpents. She spoke the names of the dead and they answered. She danced naked with shadows and kissed the mouth of the void. And Hecate? She lit the fire that burned away her forgetting. She placed the key in her palm, the one that opened the self. She whispered: “Now you walk the crooked path. Now you choose the in-between. Now you carry the flame, and become the flame.” The girl took the torch, and her name returned to her like thunder. From that day forward, witches have known it is not in temples that Hecate waits. Not in polished marble or perfect hymns. But in the midnight howl, the crossroads dream, the moment you rise from ruin and say: “I will not be small.”
Symbols of Hecate
To walk with Hecate is to learn the language of symbols, the ancient tongue of the soul. She does not speak through scripture or commandment. Her voice is found in shadow and scent, in the flicker of flame, the glint of a key, and the silent gaze of a hound that sees what you cannot.
Each of her symbols is more than an object. They are archetypes, portals of transformation, rituals in motion, and invitations to deepen into your own becoming.
The Key
Hecate is the keeper of keys, not only to outer doors but also to the hidden locks within. She holds the threshold between who we have been and who we might become. Think of the locked places inside you: the exiled parts, the unopened paths, and the memory you buried so deeply it still echoes.
The key she offers is not comfortable. It doesn’t guarantee ease. It is an invitation, tender, unyielding, and sacred. She doesn’t push it into your hand with force. She places it there with presence. A quiet knowing. A whisper that says, You’re ready now.
But it is always your hand that must turn the lock.
This is the moment of initiation. A choice only you can make.
The Flame
Then there is the torch, the flame in the night.
It is not a blinding light that reveals everything. It is a flickering glow, just enough to illuminate the next step, never the whole road. Hecate’s flame doesn’t promise certainty. It offers clarity in fragments, in flashes, and in the sliver of light you’re ready to hold.
This fire is the one we carry into our own underworld. It is not meant to banish the dark but to walk beside it.
She teaches us that no one else will come with their flame to save us. We must light our own way.
In doing so, we learn to honour the power of our own illumination. This is the slow, sacred act of seeing ourselves clearly, step by trembling step.
The Hound
By her side walks the hound. Wild-eyed. Sharp-sensed. Sacred.
The hound hears what we cannot. It senses truth before we dare to name it. This is loyalty not to comfort, but to instinct.
This is not a pet of obedience, but a guardian of the edge. The one who knows when you are near a threshold. When the wind shifts. When the lie curls beneath a smile.
In myth, the hound walks with her as psychopomp and protector, moving between the realms of the living and the dead. If you ever hear barking at midnight, or feel an invisible presence while standing at a crossroads, you might be walking in her company. The hound reminds you that you are not alone.
The Serpent
At her feet coils the serpent, the oldest symbol of feminine power.
It speaks of shedding, shadow, and cellular transformation. To wear the snake is to accept that becoming requires unmaking. To step into who you truly are, you must release who you thought you were.
The serpent is not something to be feared. It is medicine. Feminine, ancient, embodied. It slithers through your system when you release shame, reclaim your power, and begin to speak with unapologetic truth from your gut.
She who walks with the snake does not flinch at her own evolution. She knows the cycles. She honours the deaths. And she rises again and again.
The Crossroads
Perhaps most sacred of all are the crossroads.
This is not a symbol you can hold in your hand, but one you will know by feeling. The trembling pause. The breath before the leap. The moment when your life begins to whisper, choose.
Crossroads are the map of the soul. They appear again and again, often when we least expect them. Every time you stand at the edge of a decision, a transition, or a letting go, you are invoking her.
Whether you call her name or not, she is there.
Torch in hand.
Key in the other.
Watching. Waiting.
Mythic Retelling: She Who Walks Between Worlds
Before Olympus rose, before the gods had thrones, before order carved its name into the bones of the world she was there. Smoke-skinned. Moon-eyed. A whisper behind the veil. Hecate. She was not born to rule, nor to be ruled. She was born to walk the places others feared. Not light. Not dark. But the sacred grey between. Witch. Seer. Keeper of the threshold. Daughter of night, grandmother of the unknown. She did not arrive with fanfare. She arrived with silence. And stood at the edge of every path, waiting. In the old times, they knew her. Not just in name, but in breath. They left offerings at the crossroads: garlic, wine, eggs, blood. Women called to her in childbirth. The dying whispered her name in the final exhale. She was there. She is always there. She is the goddess of boundaries, but not the ones built of walls. She is the boundary between breath and no breath, between maiden and mother, between grief and knowing. She holds the moment just before transformation. The sharp inhale before the leap. The pause before the choice. And when Persephone descended when the earth cracked open and Hades reached his hand into springtime it was Hecate who heard the scream. It was Hecate who lit the torch. It was Hecate who walked, unseen, between realms. While Demeter raged and the flowers wilted, Hecate walked the underworld. Not as a rescuer. But as a guide. She walked beside Persephone not to undo the descent, but to thread the dark into the light. To show her that even the underworld can be holy if you know how to carry your flame. She did not flinch from the blood or the bite of longing. She did not avert her eyes from the seduction, the sorrow, the strange beauty of a woman undone. Instead, she whispered: Let it change you. Let it show you who you really are. You are not lost. You are becoming. To walk with Hecate is not to be saved. It is to stand in the centre of your own crossroads and feel the gravity of choice. It is to feel her beside you — a torch in one hand, a key in the other, a hound at her heels, a serpent curled at her feet. She will not speak unless you ask. She will not move unless you move. But she is always there, at the edge of things, watching, waiting, guarding the gate. Because Hecate does not take you out of the dark. She teaches you to light your own damn fire and walk yourself through it. She is the archetype of integration. The wise one who knows that to be whole, you must descend. You must feel. You must choose. And you must rise again not clean, but crowned.
She is a triple goddess: maiden, mother, crone/ past, present, future, all at once. She is not bound by linear time or tidy labels.
She is the part of you that knows without knowing.
The gut feeling. The sharp turn. The moment you say yes to the thing that terrifies you because your soul is screaming yes.
In modern witchcraft, Hecate is often honoured at the crossroads, where three paths meet, the place of decision, of portal.
But really…
She is the crossroads.
The moment of choice. The unknown future. The flame in the distance calling you into yourself.
Mythic Retelling: The Keeper of the Dead
A tale of Hecate as Guardian of Ghosts
They say when the dead are restless, when the veil thins and shadows spill into waking life, it is not Hades who answers first, but Hecate. She does not rule the underworld. She walks its border. She keeps its keys. There is an ancient tale, rarely spoken aloud, about a village cursed by its own silence. A plague had come, swift and cruel, and none dared speak the names of the dead. They buried them quickly, without rites, without mourning, without honour. And so the dead rose, not in flesh, but in whispers. They haunted dreams. Turned milk sour. Wailed at crossroads. The villagers, terrified, prayed to Apollo. To Hermes. Even to Hades. But no god answered. Only an old woman at the edge of town remembered. She went out at night, barefoot and bone-thin, to the place where three roads met. She knelt in the dirt and lit three candles. She whispered offerings to the wind. And when the flames flickered sideways when the hounds began to howl she knew Hecate had come. Cloaked in midnight. Eyes full of ash and stars. She did not speak. She only listened. The woman poured honey on the earth. Laid bread and eggs in silence. And said the names of the forgotten dead, one by one by one. And Hecate, moved by the act, walked the village that night. Not to punish. But to gather the spirits in her skirts, like fallen fruit. She carried them to the gates of the underworld, not to erase them, but to place them where they belonged honoured, named, and whole again. Since then, it is said that if the dead speak to you in dreams, if you feel a presence when you stand at a threshold, if you hear dogs barking at midnight without reason leave an offering. Say the names. Honour the unseen. For Hecate walks the night with them, keeper of lost souls, mother of the unremembered, and torchbearer for all who wander.
Working with Hecate: Archetypal Medicine and Embodiment Wisdom
Archetypal medicine is the healing, insight, or transformation we receive when we connect with a universal energy or pattern, known as an archetype, that lives within us. Archetypes are ancient, symbolic energies that appear across cultures and throughout myth, story, and psyche. They are not just characters from old tales; they are living forces that mirror different aspects of the human experience, like The Mother, The Wild Woman, The Healer, The Warrior, The Crone, or in this case, Hecate, the Threshold Guardian.
When we work with archetypes, we begin to see ourselves more clearly. We meet the parts of us that have been hidden, silenced, or forgotten. Archetypal medicine invites us to remember who we are at a deeper level. It gives us permission to access inner wisdom, power, and truth that may have been buried under layers of conditioning or fear. This kind of medicine is not about fixing what’s broken. It’s about reclaiming what’s been forgotten, and honouring the full spectrum of who we are, light, shadow, and everything in between.
Embodied wisdom, on the other hand, is about bringing that insight into the body. It is knowing that doesn’t just live in the mind, but pulses through your cells, your bones, your breath. When we speak of embodying wisdom, we are talking about integrating it through action, sensation, movement, ritual, and lived experience. It’s one thing to understand an archetype intellectually, but it becomes transformational when we feel it, express it, move as it, and live from its energy.
Embodied wisdom is the sacred knowing that emerges when we dance as the Wild Woman, roar like the Warrior, or stand silently as the Crone. It’s when our inner knowing moves through our voice, our posture, our choices, and our presence. This is not performance. It’s presence. It’s about remembering. It’s the wisdom that arises not from a book, but from the body’s deep well of truth.
When I speak of walking with Hecate, or any other archetype, I am inviting you to explore both her archetypal medicine (the symbolic, mythic, psychological insight she brings) and her embodied wisdom (the way her energy lives and moves through your body, choices, and life). Together, they form a path of soulful integration, a way of not just understanding transformation, but living it fully.
To walk with Hecate is to walk with choice. She does not offer easy answers. She does not promise clarity or comfort. Instead, she meets you at the threshold, the wild, internal crossroads where the life you’ve known begins to tremble and the life that’s calling you still feels unnamed. Her archetypal medicine is not about giving direction. It is about sovereignty. It is about standing at the edge of identity, belief, story, and self, and asking with fierce honesty: Which part of me is true now? And which part am I ready to leave behind?
Hecate reminds us that all thresholds are holy. Whether you are stepping into motherhood or midlife, navigating grief, healing, leadership, or reclaiming your voice, she is there. Watching. Witnessing. Holding space for the becoming.
Hecate teaches us that transformation does not happen in polished, well-lit places. The real alchemy takes place in the mud. It happens in the sacred moment when you whisper, I don’t know who I am anymore, but I’m willing to find out. Her presence invites us to pause in the not-knowing, to feel the weight of our choices, and to honour the liminal space between what has ended and what has not yet begun. She calls us to hold ourselves with reverence as we navigate the slow, beautiful becoming of who we truly are.
Her torch does not light the entire road. It illuminates only the next step. And that is the point. Hecate teaches us to trust our instincts. To listen not just with the mind, but with the body, the gut, the dreams, and the symbols. She reminds us that intuition is not soft or whimsical. It is ancient, primal, and sacred. It is a remembering that lives in your bones. It is the flame that continues to burn even in the darkest of times. Walking with her helps us befriend our shadows. Not to banish them, but to integrate them. She invites us to find the gold hidden in our grief, our rage, our fear. She shows us that wholeness is not light-washed, but shadow-kissed.
Hecate is the torchbearer, but she is also the one who teaches you how to carry your own flame. Her archetype speaks to those who walk beside others: guides, space-holders, coaches, healers, mentors, and midwives. Those who sit with others in their moments of unraveling and re-formation. She reminds us that we are not here to fix or rescue or know. We are here to hold the light. To witness. To walk beside. To name the sacred that lives within the shadow. In doing so, we model what it means to be fully present for ourselves and for others at the threshold.
She is also the embodiment of crone energy. Not defined by age, but by essence. Hecate is the mature feminine, the one who has walked through fire and now carries the map in her skin. She does not seek approval or permission. She knows who she is. She knows how to say no, how to say yes, and how to hold a boundary that functions as both blade and balm. To walk with Hecate is to reclaim your eldership, even if you are young in years. It is to stop waiting to be chosen and to begin choosing yourself. It is to honour the wisdom that grows from lived experience, the kind that cannot be taught but only earned.
More than anything, Hecate is the one who walks between. She lives at the threshold between the spiritual and physical, the visible and invisible, the conscious and the unconscious. To embody her is to learn how to live in both worlds. It is to become a translator of dreams, a weaver of symbols, a priestess of the liminal. Her archetype invites us to explore altered states, ritual, imagination, and magic. She teaches us to root ourselves deeply into the earth while reaching fearlessly into the mystery.
When you walk with Hecate, you begin to trust the darkness. You begin to honour the pause. You remember that your power is not found in how brightly you shine, but in how bravely you stand in the in-between. And carry the flame.
Embodiment Practices for Working with Hecate
Hecate’s energy invites us to slow down, turn inward, and become more intentional about the choices we’re making and the transitions we’re moving through. Here are some simple, grounded practices to help you connect with her archetype and embody her wisdom:
1. Take an intentional night walk
Go for a walk after dark with no distractions- no phone, no music. Let it be a space of reflection and intuition. Notice how your body feels when you walk with presence. Ask internally: What am I standing on the edge of right now? Pay attention to any insights that arise, and trust your inner knowing.
2. Use keys, mirrors, or crossroads in ritual
Choose one of Hecate’s symbolic tools and bring it into your spiritual practice. You might hold a key while meditating on a decision you need to make. You can place a mirror on your altar and use it for shadow work or self-reflection. Or you might visit a physical crossroads and leave a small offering (like garlic, herbs, or a stone) to honour her energy and ask for guidance.
3. Build a three-candle altar
Create a small altar space to honour Hecate. Light three candles to represent her triple nature, Maiden, Mother, and Crone, or past, present, and future. You can include symbols like bones, a small statue or image of her, black or deep red cloth, a key, or a bowl of water. Use this space for quiet reflection, journaling, or ritual during times of transition.
4. Journal with Hecate as a guide
Take time to write and reflect on the following prompts. These are especially powerful to explore at new moons, full moons, or during moments of change:
• What crossroads am I currently standing at?
• What old story, role, or version of myself am I being asked to release?
• Where in my life do I need to trust my intuition more deeply?
• Where do I feel Hecate’s presence, or where would I like to invite her in?
• What wisdom am I holding now that could light the path for others?
These practices are not meant to be performative, they’re invitations to connect more deeply with your own inner archetypal knowing. Hecate doesn’t demand perfection. She simply asks that you show up with honesty and courage at the thresholds of your life.
Creative Direction & Visual Inspiration: Embodying Hecate
If you were to call Hecate into your art, into your photography, styling, altar-making, or self-expression, the invitation is not to just perform her, but to invoke her.
Here are some directions to inspire your process, whether you’re creating a visual shoot, crafting a self-portrait, styling a ritual, or simply dressing in her essence for an evening walk under the dark moon.
Symbols to Weave In
These are Hecate’s language. Each one carries meaning, memory, and power.
Torches or lanterns – the flame that lights the path.
Keys – thresholds of the inner world, unlocking hidden parts of the self.
The crescent moon – her alignment with the waning and new moon phases, moments of descent and rebirth.
Dogs – loyal guides, intuitive protectors, carriers of the unseen.
Snakes – shedding, transformation, the sacred spiral.
Crossroads & thresholds – doorways, paths, liminal space. Real or symbolic.
You might carry these as props, wear them as jewellery, paint them, or place them on your altar or set.
Colour Palette
Let your colour story mirror the world she walks in:
Black – the fertile void, mystery, depth.
Midnight blue / indigo – the colour of the sky before surrender.
Silver – moonlight, reflection, intuition.
Earth tones (optional) – deep soil, root energy, ash and bone.
Flowing fabrics, layered textures, or ceremonial robes can evoke her multidimensional nature.
Location Ideas
Choose places that feel quiet, wild, or slightly haunted. These are her natural temples.
Forest at dusk – the veil between light and dark.
An abandoned crossroads or woodland path – real or metaphorical.
Ruins or ancient stone – the residue of memory, forgotten places.
Candle-lit altar space – whether in nature or at home.
Foggy fields, graveyards, caves, or tunnels – liminal spaces full of story.
Posture & Movement Inspiration
Use your body as spellwork. Play with shape, shadow, and suggestion.
Holding a torch or lantern ahead of you, lighting the way.
Standing at a fork in the path, with your arms outstretched, becoming the crossroads.
Looking over your shoulder, connecting past, present, and future.
Kneeling with a key in your hand or placing it at your heart, inviting inner access.
Cloaked in shadow, eyes closed, one hand on earth, the other toward sky, between worlds.
You could also explore motion: slow turning, threshold-walking, or being still at the edge of something.
Whether you’re styling a shoot, sketching a vision, or simply dressing for a threshold moment in your own life, let her essence guide you.
This is an invitation to wear your wisdom, to walk in your power, to become the torchbearer you’ve been waiting for.
Integration & Lived Wisdom: Carrying the Torch Forward
It’s one thing to meet Hecate at the crossroads.
It’s another to walk forward from that moment with intention.
Her medicine is not just for ritual or myth, it’s for the messy, beautiful, real world we live in. The world of decisions, relationships, boundaries, grief, and rebirth. The world of becoming.
So how do we integrate her wisdom?
Honour your shadow seasons
Instead of resisting the dark times, honour them as sacred thresholds.
Periods of confusion, stillness, endings, or grief are not signs of failure, they’re initiations.
Ask yourself: What is ending? What is asking to be released? What part of me is being reborn?
Make space to feel, to retreat, to be in the in-between without rushing for clarity. Hecate reminds us: the descent is not the end of the story. It’s where true becoming begins.
Weave ritual and intuition into daily life
You don’t need a full moon or altar to honour Hecate.
Let your everyday moments become sacred.
Light a candle in the morning and ask for guidance.
Trust your gut when making decisions, and follow it.
Leave offerings to your future self in the form of rest, creative play, or solitude.
Pause at literal or symbolic thresholds (your front door, a new journal, a new month) and ask: What am I stepping into?
Her energy lives in choice, stillness, and the subtle knowing that lives below the noise.
Hold space for others, without losing yourself
If you’re a coach, guide, healer, or mentor, someone who holds space for others transformation, Hecate is your patron archetype.
She shows us how to walk beside people without carrying their journey. To light the way, not walk the path for them. To honour their timing, their choices, their shadow, just as we honour our own. This is leadership as torchbearing, not control. It’s sacred witnessing.
Embrace the power of maturity
Whether you’re entering midlife, deepening into your path, or simply no longer willing to apologise for your truth, Hecate invites you to claim your eldership.
You don’t have to be “old” to step into wise woman energy. You just have to be done with shrinking. This is the season where your experience becomes gold. Where your boundaries sharpen. Where your magic strengthens, not in spite of the years, but because of them. Own it. Embody it. You are not becoming less powerful with age. You are becoming undeniable.
Hecate doesn’t ask you to be perfect. She asks you to be present at the thresholds of your life, To trust the dark. To carry the flame. To choose yourself, again and again. And to remember: You don’t need to know what lies ahead. You only need to light the next step.
Poem: “Hecate”
They call me witch. Crone. Old dog at the crossroads. But I have walked between the worlds so many times, the ghosts know my name before they’re dead. I lit the torches. Three flames in the dark. One for the wound. One for the blade. One for the voice they buried in your chest like a bone. I have stood where the roads fork, not lost, but watching. I see the girl with dirt under her nails and no map. I see the wife with her wedding ring like a collar. I see the mother with blood on her thighs and no lullaby. They come to me when the gods are silent. Let me tell you a secret. The spell was always your own tongue. The cauldron was your belly. The power? Yours. I am here to remind you who you are when the moon is full and your name tastes like iron in your mouth. I catch you, slick with becoming, howling your name as the old world slips from your hips. I hold the dark so you can crown.
Closing Reflections
Thank you so much for walking this path with me, for sitting at the crossroads, for honouring the void, and for meeting Hecate in all her mystery, power, and presence.
If this episode spoke to something deep within you, I would love for you to save it, share it, or even send it to someone else who might be standing at a threshold right now. These archetypal stories are ancient, but they come alive through you, through your listening, your embodiment, your remembering.
This is part of an ongoing series on Playing Her Part, where we explore the archetypal feminine through storytelling, embodiment, and creative reflection.
If you haven’t already, I invite you to listen to the previous Playing Her Part episodes:
Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld, keeper of descent and return.
And Lilith, the untamed one, the rebel, the first woman who refused to be silenced.
Each of these women holds a mirror to something inside us. Each one offers a different kind of medicine.
You can find those episodes wherever you’re listening now, or through The Wisdom Path podcast archive here on Substack.
Thank you again for being here, for showing up to your own becoming. This path is not linear. It is spiral. And we are walking it together.
Until next time , my love.
In Creativity & Connection
Rosie
[Images on this blog are from self-portraits and a collaborative art project with Grace
where we I photographed her as we worked with Hecate, Persephone and Lilith energies]
Share this post